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Thursday, February 28, 2013

On Writing: The Land of Literary Citizens

How did I get here?

I don’t ask that regularly, but every so
often I have a moment of wonder. How did
I get to be forty-one years old, with a house, and a wife, and car insurance?
How have I held the same job for seven years and lived in the same city for
nine? How, to borrow from David Byrne, do I work this?

Lately, the question has been: How have
I gotten so deeply into this writing thing so quickly?

I see them everywhere. Poker games and
parties, blog tours and conventions, Facebook groups and readings. One guy I know is currently twenty-fifth on
the NYT
bestseller list. Another guy is getting press worldwide for a music
bio. Yet another writer seems to be running the table with
his shortstories. Others –
many others -- are toiling in various degrees of obscurity, looking for agents,
cleaning up drafts, submitting, filing away rejections, and writing-writing-always-more-writing.
It’s a community of literary citizens,
always ready to offer congratulations, Tweet out a link, or comment on
something published online. We buy each other’s books, go to each other’s
readings, and recommend each other stories to our non-writing family and
friends.

How did I get here? I close my eyes and jumped. And I’m
glad I arrived.